


Mick Is My Darling

by pinkbubblesgo (lavatorylovemachine)



Series: Jukebox Stories [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 2010s, F/M, Fangirls, Gen, Music, Musicians, Ode to Fangirls, Song Lyrics, The Rolling Stones - Freeform, Tribute bands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavatorylovemachine/pseuds/pinkbubblesgo
Summary: The vocalist of a Rolling Stones tribute band questions his life.





	Mick Is My Darling

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably my biggest tribute to the Stones. The whole story came to me while I was listening to On Air and I finished writing while listening to Sticky Fingers.
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

He adjusts his blue bell pants and checks himself in the mirror. _Great_ , he thinks with a rehearsed smile. The shoulder-length wavy hair, the open shirt, everything is ready for the show. He looks at the setlist pasted to the wall one last time: everything from the blues years to the Bigger Bang era. _Nice_.

What she doesn't know is that this is his last show. It has been five years with The Wild Horses, five years of playing at the Wino's, at weddings, small clubs, birthday parties; and he is fed up with it. He smiles and sings and plays the part, but after the shows are over, he wants nothing to do with the part. The girls, specially; God, he can’t stand being _adored_ and stalked like that. He's more like Charlie Watts in that sense, low-key and mild-mannered, and for the past years he has wished he'd look like Charlie so he could sat behind the drums and disappear. He curses his parents for giving him the Jagger looks but not so for the Wino's bar, which he inherited.

It was fun at first. Like when he was just a teen and he sang the Stones songs with his buddies, discovering that not only did he have the looks, he had the voice, the most iconic voice of rock & roll.

Then he found his Keith, his Charlie and his Ronnie. "Brian" and "Bill" showed up once in a while to play some tracks. They had once been his best friends, the only ones who shared his passion for the Stones and understood him in his "psychotic breaks", as they called them.

The stage is ready to greet the Wild Horses and she's waiting. Does he actually look that much like Mick or those people were just bluffing? Do the others look alike too so that she can feel she's at an actual Stones show? _You stupid girl_ , a voice inside her says _. Look around, all this people could be your parents._

The band comes out and is welcomed by cheers and applauses. Without further introduction, for they're the Wino's main attraction, they start playing the first song on the setlist.

 _I was born in a cross-fire hurricane_  
_And I howled at the morning driving rain_  
_But it's all right now, in fact, it's a gas_  
_But it's all right. I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash_  
_It's a gas, gas, gas_

When did his misanthropy (or disgust, his mother would call it "disgust") began? It was all roses at the beginning, of course, he was living the dream of 'becoming' Mick Jagger every other night. His idol. But the dream turned into routine, which turned into doubts. He didn't have a proper job and hated the perspective of being _only_ a carbon copy all his life. His father once asked him if he wanted to write his own songs, and of course he was ready to do it, but his band mates wanted to continue playing covers. And even if he started composing, people would take one look at him and think, "that kid looks like Mick Jagger! I wonder if he'd play Satisfaction for me?”. That was his ever-growing suspicion.

After much cheering, the show ends with their traditional rendition of "Wild Horses" on acoustic. Over the years, the song became him and he became the song _._  Bittersweet, mellow, melancholic. He even refused to play "Satisfaction" for the encore, as his Keith had suggested.

Now he's in the second storey of the bar, watching the now empty stage from above as he wipes the sweat off his face with a towel. Suddenly, a girl runs in, excited. They're all excited, of course, but the band notices her because she's much younger than the others. _Some girls..._

"Hi, Mick," she says, and her eyes sparkle in the dark as the other bandmates try not to giggle. "You were great up there."

He finds her beautiful. But...

"Thanks," he says with a weak smile. Then he starts drying his wild hair with the same towel.

But the girl is not giving up.

"Can I take a picture with you?" she asks, and then, when he shows no interest, she adds, "Please?"

He concedes, only because he doesn't want to leave a bad impression on his last show (or is it _their_ last show?). _Would she take a picture with me if I looked any different?_ He wonders as he mechanically puts an arm around her shoulder for the phone camera.

She shares the photo in all her social media accounts at the same time. She's a no-life fangirl and she knows it. She admits it, she wears the badge with honor. It's not like an interesting and adventurous life awaits her outside this concert... No, it's worse than that. It's worse because this show is the best thing that's happened to her in months. Not finding a great job, not getting married or becoming a mother, no; it's this.

But she can see her Mick isn't on the best of moods, so she goes back to the first story to have drinks like everyone else. _It's okay, rockstars are like that,_ she tells herself. She will wait outside the Wino's, but he doesn't need to know that.

He's finished changing into regular clothes for men in their late twenties and putting the wet ones in a backpack when he starts thinking that a new look will do him good. And the quitting, he will quit the band through texting or WhatsApp, much according to the times.

She's outside, tapping her foot, when everyone except "Mick" leaves the Wino’s among words of admiration. _Where is he?_

He leaves the bar once he's sure everyone else is gone as well and locks the door as his father taught him. He sighs and starts walking home, not noticing the girl.

She follows, anxious to talk to him, to touch him, to absorb his very essence. She knows exactly how "creepy", how far from normal her behavior is; but she's not stopping. _Is it really that creepy?_ she starts rationalizing. _Had I been born in the sixties... Yeah, I totally would have been up there as Mick Jagger's biggest groupie._

But she is here, right now, walking through the cold breeze, chasing after an illusion. Sometimes all we have are illusions.

As he turns a corner into the street where his apartment is, she thinks of her past lovers; all great guys she was lucky to have as boyfriends. But she was always looking for that high, that perfect emotional high that music gave her and her partners, poor things, could never match. And she never, she had to admit it now, loved those boyfriends as much as she loved musicians. She was always sharpening the edges, polishing the paintings, trying to mold them into what she wanted.

He's finally home, thank God. Now he can shave his head or whatever else he has in mind for his new look. The character died tonight.

The college dropout, the nothing but a dreamer is watching it all from a tree; how he throws his backpack on the sofa, yawns and makes himself at home. Then she remembers, _recites_ one of the Stones' verses in her head: _Lose your dreams and you may lose your mind_.


End file.
